me?"

Ace's hand tightened on the gun.

The Russian prince's voice grew rougher. "I said, did you fucking hear me? Shoot her, or I shoot you."

"I said no," Ace hissed, but she didn't drop the gun.

The blonde of her hair was silhouetted in the golden evening light. The coloured-glass windows of the Czar Palace painted the marble floor in shades of blood and bronze. There was something about the way her jaw locked. Something about the way her ice-blue eyes narrowed, the long lashes casting pale shadows over her porcelain skin.

She was beautiful in the same way winter was beautiful.

With sharp lace and glittering, untouchable snow. With cold wind and beads of crystalline frost. She was beautiful and indestructible. She was stone and indifference. There was pride and arrogance and sheer, unflinching determination in the way she walked, the way she moved.

Nothing could hurt her.

But Mavis held her breath, and she watched this girl―who she had come to love―break.

And it was breaking.

Glass. Jagged glass.

If Mavis could touch her now, she would bleed.

And she wanted to touch her, to cup Ace's face in her hand. To tell her everything was going to be alright, even though the gun in Ace's hand was now trembling as it rose. Higher and higher. Until it was pointed at Mavis's head.

Please don't do this.

"Kill her, or I kill you," said the Prince.

"Your pretty floors will be stained red," Ace hissed.

Aleksi cocked his gun. Unlatching the safety.

"I want to see you cry," he said. "I want to see you hurt, the way you hurt me. You killed Galina. It was you."

"Galina was a psychopath."

"And you aren't?" Nikolai circled Ace. Predatory. The gun he held to her head was all Mavis could focus on, thinking, Please, please, please. No. No, no, no.

Mavis couldn't let this happen.

Aleksi's attention narrowed to her. "Did you know your wife is a sociopath? She murdered the love of my life in cold blood. She has killed hundreds, hundreds, of targets. She is an assassin. She is a Russian spy. Do you know what she's done? It would give you nightmares for the rest of your life."

Mavis pressed her wavering lips together. "Shut up," she hissed. "You're just trying to get in my head."

"This girl . . . this girl you call Ace . . . did you know she's not only a killer, but she was the lead of our interrogation team?"

"Shut up," Mavis gritted out.

"Do you know what interrogation means here?" whispered the prince. "It means torture. Torture in every way imaginable. You probably don't know what your wife here has done. Do you even know her name?" He let out a soft, dangerous laugh. "Ace. She is versed in every kind of pain. She could probably make me cry for my mother."

Ace uttered something in Russian. Mavis hoped it was something like, Fuck you and your mother.

"What's it going to be, Ace?" Aleksi mocked. And then, so swiftly there was no time to react, the prince had leveled a second gun at Mavis's head. One in each hand.

"Point that the fuck away from her," Ace said, and her dark, low voice was so furious Mavis could hear the Russian accent rolling through.

"Why should I?" Aleksi's voice was bitter. "Tell me, sister. Why should I?"

"It was me." The sound was raw, torn from Ace. "Blame me, not her."

"I want you to hurt," said Aleksi, "the same way you hurt me."

"Then torture me," Ace said, and she was . . . she was begging now. She was pleading―for Mavis. "For however long you want. I won't resist. I'll give myself up to you. You can have me, as long as you let her go."

Mavis heard the sound of the trigger unlatching.

"No," Aleksi said coldly. "I don't think I will. I want you to kill her, I want you to hurt. I want you to beg me for mercy. I want you to pray to every god there is. I want you to know you are going to hell."

"No," Ace whispered. "You'll have to shoot me first."

"Kill her," Aleksi dared. "Kill her now, and I will do it, and I will do it slowly."

The words fell out of Mavis, and this time . . . she didn't stop them. "Do it," she whispered.

Ace's head whipped towards her. "Mavis."

"Do it," Mavis insisted softly. "Kill me. I . . . I don't want it to be painful. Just get it over with, please. After everything that happened today . . . I was wrong to think I could survive a life like this. Do it."

Ace's answer was guttural. "No."

Mavis swallowed. Time seemed to slow. The golden candlelight spilling through the coloured mosaic of the Czar's palace faded away, becoming a haze behind Ace.

Ace. She was all Mavis could focus on, as her entire body trembled. Ace, with her pale gold hair, with her piercing blue eyes. Ace, and the sharp lines of her face that Mavis had once traced with shaking fingertips, skin against skin, until their lips had connected. Ace, who Mavis had once thought was heartless, who had proved herself to be . . . to be kind, against all odds. Kind and soft, beneath that ice exterior.

"If I have to die, I want it to be you," Mavis said.

"No," Ace whispered.

"If it has to happen, I want it to be you."

"No," Ace repeated.

"You, Ace Alisa Anastasia Ivanova Morozova. You."

"No," Ace said, her voice breaking. "I won't. I won't do it."

"I want you to know," Mavis began, "I want you to know that . . . from the time we met, to right now, I . . . I never expected to fall in love. I never expected to love again in my lifetime. And you . . . you defied all my expectations. You showed me―" Mavis's voice cracked. "You were the one who showed me . . . who proved to me that people aren't always who we think they are. That people can be more than what we think of them. That they can . . . that they might look like a murderous, sociopathic assassin, but in reality . . ." Mavis smeared the tears from her lip. "In reality, they're the kindest, sweetest, softest person I know."

"Do not do this."

"I didn't want to fall in love with you, Ace. But I don't think it was a choice. I don't think I could have stopped it . . . I don't think I could have resisted. You are―you are beautiful, and brave, and you didn't kill me, even when you could have. Even when you should have. You chose me before I even knew it, and I'm . . . I'm in love with you. And I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it, and to tell you."

There were quiet, silver tears slipping down Ace's cheeks.

It was just like dancing.

It was better than dancing.

Mavis forgot everything. She forgot about the prince, the ring, and the gun Ace was holding to her head. She forgot herself.

But if Ace lived . . . if Ace lived, there was hope.

"This isn't Romeo and Juliet," Mavis whispered. "We don't have to both die at the end."

"I'm not going to kill you," Ace said viciously.

"It's better than what he'll do," Mavis whispered, and maybe it clicked. Maybe Ace finally realized. "Please. Just do it."

"I love you," Ace whispered.

"I love you, too."

"I know. I am not stupid."

Ace fired the gun.

For a moment, the world went black.

Aleksi sank to his knees. His chest arching back. And as blood began to pool on his silken shirt, Ace rushed towards Mavis.

Mavis buried her face in Ace's hair, breathing in the scent of vanilla. Her tears were soaking into Ace's skin, she was sure of it, but Ace didn't seem to mind. Her arms were wrapped around Mavis protectively, her fingertips digging into Mavis's back, as though she would never let her go again.

Aleksi still had a gun in his hand. He was breathing harshly as his fingers tightened, and he rose, trembling, on one knee.

Two seconds. That was all it took.

Mavis did not have time to move.

"I couldn't," Ace whispered. "Do you remember―what I said―about the final piece? About being one moment away from―from gone? I thought it was you, the first time we met, but this . . . this was it. This was the moment. I . . . I couldn't do it."

"I love you," Mavis whispered. "It's going to be okay. It's going to be alright. I love you."

In the moment after Aleksi pulled the trigger, Mavis had only one second left.

One second, to think of every single moment she had ever shared with her daughter. One second to think of her time with Ace.

One second to know.

The gun was aimed at her head. The bullet arced through the air, gliding towards her like an avenging angel, and it was the end.

"Isla," Mavis said. Take care of her, she wanted to say. "Tell her I―"

There was no time.

Ace pulled back just slightly, her blue eyes bright and devouring. Widening. Her mouth formed four words, but Mavis couldn't understand them.

There was light. Bright, cutting light―and a winter sky.